


Happy Pills

by SpacedustAndBoxes



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Backstory, Bad Things Happen To Carlos, Bad Things Happen To Cecil Palmer, Bad things happen in general, Blood, Body Horror, Brainwashing, But he's in this story anyway and he's important, Death, Desert Bluffs, Diego is not Carlos' double, Gen, Gore, Graphic Violence, Hallucinations, I got permission to use that character don't worry, Implied Drugs, Killing, M/M, Multi, Needles, Physical Torture, Psychological Torture, Self-Harm, Some Spoilers, Strexcorp, Strexcorp is Evil, Torture, bad, bad things happen to kevin, fear conditioning, insane character, kevin's backstory, like really bad things, really - Freeform, semi-canon, things
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-06
Updated: 2020-02-04
Packaged: 2020-02-27 05:48:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 11,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18732838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpacedustAndBoxes/pseuds/SpacedustAndBoxes
Summary: When a young man named Kevin Free is chosen as the voice of Desert Bluffs, he feels like the stars have finally aligned for him. Yet new, strange goings-on in town seem to be a cause for concern. Uncertainty follows Kevin's every step as he discovers the horrible beast known as Strexcorp, and the perhaps even more horrible Desert Otherworld.(Personal interpretation of Kevin's backstory, as well as his future going past the current WTNV canon.)





	1. Initiation

  The night was dark, and spattered with silver stars that glowed with a cool light. The breeze was light, just strong enough that you'd barely notice it, and carried only the lightest of chills.   
It has been years, though no one knows exactly how many, since this specific ritual had been conducted. The people of the town, anyone who wished to be involved, stood in a circle. The light of the candles they held were cast on to two figures. A man who was not young, and a man who was not old.  
  "Are you ready?" Asks the man who is not young in a raspy baritone voice.  
  "Ready as I'll ever be." The man who is not old sounds cheerful, and flashes a toothy smile. He doesn't know what the ritual will do to him, but he knows what it means. The man who is not young will become the new Voice of Desert Bluffs. Every town in this bleak desert had a Voice, and taking that ever so important mantle required going through the ritual. It was said that no ordinary mortal could take the job, though no one was quite sure why. No one ever remembered the ritual after it had passed.  
  The man who is not young puts his hands on the shoulders of the man who is not old, and so the ritual begins. The man who is not young speaks the spell softly, and the man who is not old can feel his skin begin to burn. He does not cry out. He somehow knows, without truly knowing, that he must not make a sound.  
  One by one, ancient symbol begin to appear on his skin. These signs, passed down through generations of Voices, grant gifts that have since been forgotten. No one knows that this is the source of such power. No one remembers. Such is the nature of the ritual. However, participating means knowing briefly the ancient knowledge that tomorrow will seem like a dream you can't quite remember.  
  The first symbol is for translation. The second, protection. The third, courage. And so on, all the way up one arm and down the other. As they appeared and burned like molten gold on the skin of the man who was not old, they faded off of the skin of the man who was not young.  
  The man who is not old closes his eyes, and bright visions begin to unfold. The entire history of his town spreads out before him like a drop of ink spreading out across a sheet of paper. Everything, every memory of every person, every sight and sound, flows in and then out of the mind of the man who is not old. He sees everything. He remembers none of it.  
  More and more symbols take their places on the arms of the man who is not old, going dark as they settle on the skin and giving the appearance of what one might consider to be tattoos. There are many of them, but they all feel the same. A sharp, harsh burn, accompanied by a glow, which then fades to a still warmth.  
  The stars seem to burn with a renewed passion, glittering coldly just out of reach like the eyes of the elder gods as they watch over the ritual.  
  The man who is not young feels weaker as the power leaves him, but he resigns himself to it. His time as the Voice is over, and this ritual is a necessary step in the continuation of the town's existence.  
 _All that I am,_ thinks the man who is not old, _all I ever will be, it all changes after tonight.  
_   Though it is an odd thing to think about, he knows in his heart that everything is about to be very different.  
  A low hum fills the air, and the man who is not old begins to feel dizzy and light. The stars blur above him and, acting on instinct, he tips his head back.  
  The man who is not young takes out a sharp object, The object that had appeared to tell him how to do this, and would disappear along with the memories of this when it was over. He touched the sharp object to the forehead of the man who is not old.  
  This was the most dangerous part of the ritual, and the man who is not old finds himself unable to move, other than the release of his jaw as he lets out a primal scream. It is involuntary, and it is not a scream of pain, but rather of power. As the wolf cries out to honor the moon, so too did the man who is not old cry out to honor the ancient gods that blessed him with the role he was destined to take. This was the moment that he, if he was not truly meant to be the one to take the mantle of the Voice.   
  The sharp object cuts the skin, and surely enough, the man who is not old has the mark. No blood is shed as a new eye, a third eye, gazes for the first time upon the vast expanse of the night sky and the endless void beyond. He is still screaming, still howling, and the sound cuts the still air like the sharpest of knives. A beautiful, clean cut. Had you heard it, you would have understood the power that it conveyed. You would have felt proud. Honoured. But you would never remember it.  
  Abruptly, the screaming stops and the man who is not old falls to the ground. His head is still tipped back, and now all his eyes are open as he looks towards the distant, distant lights that glow coldly on our earth.  
  "Rise, Kevin Free," says the man who is not old. "The new Voice of Desert Bluffs."  
Shaking, the man who is not young manages to get to his feet, and he looks around at the silent people around him. _His_ people. He was chosen for this, and in the candlelight their fixed eyes seem to shimmer with something that echoed pride and approval.  
  He speaks clearly, addressing all of them, addressing the world, addressing the empty desert and the sky itself, as if it is his first time being heard. "I will not let you down. I swear it."  
  No one answers him, and yet they all smile knowingly. The night is once again silent and still. A lone figure stands, watching from afar. A stranger. The stranger will not remember this either. The stranger feels what everyone else feels, though they do not know anyone here, or why they feel this way. They do not understand, and it scares them, but they cannot look away.  
  For an instant, for an eternity, time stands still. People wait with held breath beneath the moonless sky, watching the man who would now speak to them and for them, and they felt happy. But it was not happiness as one might experience it in daily life. It was happiness on a cosmic level. Nothing was wrong, and everything fit into it's place, and surely if the stars could have aligned then they would have in that moment. Pride, faith, and joy, all melting together into a single, solid emotion. Everything made sense.  
  Slowly, so very slowly, the illusion began to fade. One by one, the people of the town left, unsure of why they were there, unsure of what they had done, unsure if it had or hadn't all been a dream.  
  Before long, the only ones remaining are the man who is not old, and the man who is not young.  
  "You'll do great," says the man who is not young.  
  "Are you sure?" The man who is not old, who felt so confident only minutes ago, is now terrifyingly aware of just how small his place in the universe is, and just how large his place in the town has become.  
  "Yes," the man who is not old tells him. "Have some faith in yourself, Kevin. The fact that you survived this long is all the proof I need to know this was the right choice."  
  "Right..."  
  
  Kevin would wake the next morning knowing what had happened, but unable to remember how. Not that it mattered. There were many things the residents of Desert Bluffs didn't, couldn't, or wouldn't remember. All that mattered was that life went on in spite of the questions that bubbled and hummed at the back of the mind. Life went on. It always had, and it always would.  
In the light of a new day, a man who is not old walks down a road that is, in fact, very old. Likely older than him. He does not pause to consider it's history, and instead moves forwards with purpose and excitement. This is, after all, _his_ town, and one does not need to know or understand the history of a place to know that it's where they belong. In the process of walking down the road, muscle memory by now, he does pause to consider one thing.  
 _Everything is the same, but it's also all so different now._  
  Bearing that in mind, the new Voice enters the radio station with some new things to say.

 

 


	2. How Sweet

  Kevin smiles as he walks into the familiar radio station. He feels a pleasant warmth inside. Ever since he began interning here, years ago, this place has been like a second home to him. But this time, walking in carries a distinctly different feeling. The feeling of returning home when you're not quite the same as you were when you last left it.  
  He looks around at the familiar walls, a smile splitting his lips. It feels odd to be here without his old mentor, but odd in a good way. He's not an intern anymore. He's made it. Something inside him whispers that this was always meant to be.  
  His smile does not fade as the woman with the smile as fake as her nails enters behind him, and freezes when she sees how he's changed.  
  "Kevin?!" For a moment, she cannot mask the surprise and jealousy in her voice.  
  "Hello Lauren!" Unlike her, Kevin's smile in genuine, if a tad smug.  
  "I don't believe it."  
  "You really should," he says with a grin. "The ritual was last night, I think."  
  Lauren scowls, knowing that even if she had been present at the ritual, she wouldn't have remembered it. She feels disgusted at the thought that she might have been present to see her rival receive what she had thought would be hers.  
  Kevin watches as Lauren slowly pulls herself back together and paints that fake smile back onto her pale face, her eyes still lifeless and angry.  
  "That's wonderful, Kevin." She almost chokes on the words. "I'm happy for you."  
  "Thank you!" He's cheerful as ever, though the image of Lauren choking does resonate pleasantly in his mind for a moment. "It was certainly surprising to find out that I was the one that was chosen! I really did think it would be you!"  
  For a moment, Lauren considers slapping that stupid grin off of Kevin's face. She deserved it more, and he knew it. She was older than him, and had been here longer, and it had been against the rules to have more than one intern in the first place. But... here they were. It put a sour taste in her mouth.  
  "I did too." Her honey-sweet voice does little to mask her bitter mood. "I guess fate had other plans."  
  "Definitely!" Kevin grins. As usual, notes on whatever needed to be reported today had been stacked on the desk. There weren't many notes, and he would speak of current events as they happened. He was a little nervous. How was that supposed to work? He hadn't thought to ask.  
 _Then again,_ he thought to himself, _if this was really meant to be then I'll understand as it happens, right?_  
  He hopes he's right. He looks at Lauren, his amber eyes shining with delight. "I'd better get started. Why don't you make yourself useful?"  
  Lauren glares at him. Of course Kevin would rub salt in the wound. Of course. He was far better at masking his feelings than she was. Or perhaps expressing happiness was simply more important to him that the dismay and sarcasm that was often still visible under Lauren's sugar-coated acting. Either way, he managed to be mean without sounding cruel. A technique that Lauren had yet to figure out.  
  Before she could say something witty back, Kevin had entered the recording booth, which was mostly soundproof.  
  
  As Kevin carefully turns on his equipment, his mind races. Sure, he knows what he's doing, both he and Lauren have had to cover for their mentor in the past and so had been taught to use this equipment, but that wasn't the problem.  
  The problem was knowing what to say. Being the town's Voice meant needing their approval, and Kevin was terrified that he would screw it up.  
 _Relax,_ he tells himself. _Everything will be fine. I think.  
_   That didn't help as much as he'd hoped it would, but he decides it doesn't matter. He takes one last slow, deep breath, then adjusts the microphone to a more appropriate height. It turns on with a soft click, and the red light on the base lights up like a tiny beacon.  
 _Try not to think about it too much,_ Kevin thinks. _Just let it happen._  
  In that moment, Kevin lets go. Whatever is going to happen will happen, and it's best to just let it be that way. The words begin to flow naturally, as if of their own accord.  
  "Life is like the sun. Every day, it begins anew. Welcome to Desert Bluffs."  
  
  Everything was going well. Kevin was completely calm as he read the reports left for him, unaware that the words on the page were unintelligible to anyone else. He was completely calm, and everything seemed to flow naturally.  
  And then the visions started.  
  On instinct, Kevin set the broadcast to a pre-recorded message, and seconds later his vision is consumed. Suddenly, can see all the way out to the far end of town.  
 _What's happening?  
_   He tried to focus, and soon realized what he was looking at. A strange, humming object that glowed with a faint light. Clearly something that needed to be talked about and investigated.   
  The object was about the size of a person's palm, gold in colour, and in the shape of a pyramid. It radiated a dim white light, and hummed at a pitch that any person experienced in music would recognize as a B flat. However, Kevin did not know that, as he was not experienced in music.  
  As his sight transitioned somewhat jarringly back to his current location, he gestured to Lauren to come into the booth for a moment.  
 _So that's how it works._  
  "What's wrong, Kevin?" Her voice is full of mock sympathy.  
  "Oh, nothing is wrong," Kevin says cheerfully, "it's just that there's a strange object on the edge of town, and I want you to go investigate it."  
  Lauren looks thoroughly unimpressed with this. "Kevin, I'm not going to-"  
  "You're still technically an intern, Lauren. So unless you want to resign, I suggest you go check it out."  
  Lauren left, grumbling under her breath. She knew where she was going, though she didn't know how she knew. She doesn't care.  
  Kevin returns to his broadcast, happily describing what he'd seen and telling his listeners that there would be more information on the object later.  
 _This,_ he thinks to himself, _feels right. More right that anything I've ever known. This is where I belong._  
  He's unsure where the thought came from, but he appreciates it anyway. A shimmering soap bubble of a moment, in which it feels as though nothing can possibly go wrong. He knows this feeling won't last forever, so as he speaks he takes a moment to appreciate it's presence with a slow breath and a smile.   
  
  With mysterious objects having been investigated and the day drawing to a close, Kevin finds that he can barely remember anything he's spoken about today. He decides that's fine, and smiles to himself. He had been so nervous before, but everything seemed to have gone well, and the day had passed fast. He felt happy. He felt _good_. That reoccurring smile crosses his face as the words continue to fall from him like a cascade.  
  "That's all the time we have for today. Thank you for bearing with me, listeners. I know it can be odd hearing someone new speak when you are so used to someone else, but I hope that in time you will get used to me. Perhaps, in time, you may even come to like me. I wish you all well. Until next time, Desert Bluffs. Until next time."

 


	3. Omens

  The warm air carries the thick, nauseating scent of blood and decay. It is as if the town has been painted red. Blood stains every wall, and drips off every roof. Corpses and viscera line the streets. Kevin feels bile rise in his throat at the disgusting sight. The people of his town, the people he cares for, are all dead.  
 _This is all my fault,_ Kevin thinks. He doesn't know how he knows this, yet it makes sense to him.   He looks down at himself. His hands are coated with the sticky red substance. They tremble uncontrollably. Deep inside, Kevin knows what he's done.  
 _My fault. My fault. My fault. Killer. Monster. I did this._  
  The sun burns, its heat weighing down on Kevin like the weight of the world is on his shoulders.   He staggers through the wreckage, hoping to find something. To find _anything_. But there is nothing. Only blood and rot and death.  
 _What have I done?  
_   Kevin does not see the source of the fire, but he sees the smoke rising like a black scar across the sky. The city goes up like a match, and soon everything is in flames. Kevin chokes on the acrid fumes as the heat surrounds him. Slowly, surely, the flames consume him.  
  
  Kevin wakes from his chilling dream with a horrified gasp. He coughs and chokes for a moment as his mind adjusts to the fact that he is no longer dying.  
 _Everything is fine,_ he tells himself. _It's okay. Nothing is burning, and no one is dead._  
  Kevin is still shaking, and tears run down his face. He knows. He _knows_. He's been the voice of Desert Bluffs for almost a year now. He knows the difference between a normal dream and a prophetic dream. Much of the dream may have been symbolic, but Kevin knows all the same.  
 _Someday, somehow, I'm going to destroy Desert Bluffs...  
_   "I can't let that happen," he muttered out loud. "I just can't."  
  The memory of the chilling dream haunts Kevin throughout the day. It follows him like a shadow as he gets ready in the morning. It stalks him all the way to the radio station. As he slips into his usual normal of visions and reporting, it's right there, waiting in his mind's eye.  
  Kevin sighs quietly as the time comes to play the weather report. He sets it up, and then decides he should go for a walk to calm his nerves.  
  Lauren intercepts him about halfway to the door. "Where are you going?"  
  "Mind your own business, Lauren. I'm not in the mood to bicker with you today."  
  Lauren rolls her eyes. "Whatever. I'm not covering for you, so you'd better be back before the weather ends."  
  "Oh, please. You and I both know you'd do unspeakable things for a little more time on the air. I'll be back soon enough." With that, Kevin pushed past an offended-looking Lauren and stepped out into the afternoon heat.  
  As Kevin walked the familiar streets of his hometown, something orange catches his eye. A local convenience store, previously known as Twelve Corners, now bore no sign. Paper had been plastered over the windows, and on that paper was a bright orange symbol. A large triangle, with the word "Strexcorp" written underneath in black. Something about the logo made Kevin's stomach turn. Underneath the logo were the words "under construction".  
  "What could they possibly be constructing?" Kevin muttered to himself. As far as he remembered, the store had been in fairly good shape. But perhaps the company that had bought it didn't intend to use it as a store.  
 _Yeah, that makes sense,_ he thought. _But... there's something about that logo... something almost... sinister.  
_   Kevin's hands were shaking again. This had been happening on and off all morning. He found that whenever he thought of the dream, his hands would shake. For a split second, Kevin could have sworn he saw blood on his palms, but a quick shake of his head revealed it to be an illusion.   
_Am I losing my mind?_  
  Kevin checked his watch. The weather would be over soon. He turned on his heel and began walking back down the road to the radio station, only partially aware of his racing heart and his still trembling hands.  
  
  Upon entering the radio station, Kevin is met with a sneer from Lauren, that's quickly replaced by a mask of false concern.  
  "Kevin, are you alright? You're all pale."  
  "I'm fine, Lauren," he mumbled.  
  "Are you sure? You know, if you need to go home-"  
  "Lauren, shut up and leave me alone. I'm not doing this." Mentally, Kevin was exhausted. This back-and-forth with Lauren was only stressing him out more. Sighing in frustration, he entered the recording booth just as the weather came to an end. Of course it would work out like that. After all, good radio hosts always have perfect timing.   
  
  Kevin found solace in speaking to his beloved town for the rest of the afternoon. Though the familiar routine calmed him, he still couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. Praying that someone was listening, Kevin decided to clear his mind as his show drew to a close.  
  "You know, I couldn't help but notice that the Twelve Corners store has been bought by a new company. According to their logo, their name is Strexcorp, and they are constructing something there. What exactly they are constructing remains a mystery, however... I must get this off my chest, my dear listeners, I... I fear that this company is not as normal and harmless as they seem. I fear for our town. I fear for all of us. I pray to the stars above that this fear is misguided, however I do not know if they can hear me. I do not know if you can hear me, for that matter. If you are listening, please beware of this... Strexcorp. Something is wrong here, Desert Bluffs. I cannot shake the feeling. Even now, my hands tremble at the thought. Please, if you are listening, stay safe. And as always, until next time, Desert Bluffs. Until next time."  
  Kevin sighed as he shut off his microphone. "I hope I'm wrong."  
  He put his trembling hands down on the desk, and pushed himself up, ignoring Lauren as he left the station. As his feet carried him down the familiar path home, things were turning over and over in his mind, like a large rock in a curious child's hands. Over and over and over.  
 _Blood. Destruction. Strexcorp._  
  "I don't trust them."

 

 


	4. Silence

  It was nights like this that Kevin wondered why he'd chosen to stay in Desert Bluffs. He sighs to himself, laying on his bed in the dim light of the lamp that he currently doesn't have the courage to turn off, and he lets the memories run through his mind.  
  His family. He'd had one. Try as he might, he couldn't remember their faces, but he knew they existed. A mother and a little sister. They'd left town one night. He remembered their voices as they'd begged him to come with them. Tears streamed down a child's face that he couldn't quite recognize anymore. This was a normal thing to happen to memories of someone who's left town for good, but it still makes him sad. He remembers his own voice, telling them it would be okay.  
 _My whole life is here. I'm old enough to stay on my own. When I'm ready to leave, I'll come find you. I promise.  
_   But he never did. Every year, the memories grew fainter. Where had they gone? He knew they'd told him.  
 _Why can't I remember my sister's name?  
_   Tears stung his eyes. As much as he loved this town, and the people in it, Kevin didn't have many friends. At least, not ones he saw often. Not ones he felt he could share his fears with. He was well-known, of course, and most people in town could recognize him. Usually they were happy to talk to him. But that wasn't friendship, and more often than not Kevin found he couldn't remember anyone's name after speaking to him. Some memories simply came and went like the tide, always there but not always strong. It was odd, and often he found he regretted these simple things, such as the act of not learning someone's name.  
  The night dragged on, leaving Kevin alone with his thoughts. Thoughts and memories he didn't really remember. The line between memory and dream was often blurred for Kevin, and he found that certain things he was sure hadn't happened had been real, while certain things that he was sure were real had been imagined. Kevin was many things, and forgetful was definitely one of them.  
  However, try as he might, Kevin could not forget the previous night's dream. His home, his beloved city, bloody and burning. Razed and ruined. He recalled, all too clearly, the sinking feeling that whatever was going to happen to ruin his town would be his fault. Of course, he also knew that the destruction might not be that literal. However, that didn't make him feel any better about it being his fault.  
  He tried to shift his thoughts against the terrible dream, and found them returning to that business he'd seen earlier. The one with the bright orange logo.  
 _Strexcorp.  
_   Just thinking the name sent a shiver down his spine. He knew he had no reason to believe that this apparent corporation was bad, however he also couldn't deny the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach whenever the name came to mind. Besides, radio hosts were supposed to know things. Kevin had been taught to trust his gut, and his gut was saying that Strexcorp wasn't as innocent as it seemed.  
  Kevin didn't sleep much that night. His mind was swirling with thoughts that he couldn't seem to quiet. Around and around, he was dragged in circles of memory. One thing leading back to everything else. He did not shut off the lamp. He simply couldn't. Doing so would require a certain kind of fearlessness that he didn't possess at the moment. The light stayed on all night.  
  
  Daylight filters through the open window, and Kevin groans slightly as he drags himself out of the foggy haze of almost-sleep. Now that there's more light in the room, he finally shuts off his lamp, and slowly forces himself to his feet. Time to go through the motions again. Get dressed. Hair. Makeup. It's messy today, but he doesn't care. Find something to eat. As Kevin is on his way out the door, he sees something on the ground. A piece of paper that had been slipped under his door the previous night. As he read the note, his hands began to shake again.  
  
 _We know who you are, Kevin.  
  We suggest you do not speak out against us again, because you will come to regret saying such things. This is your only warning.  
  
_  The letter was not signed. Instead, the bottom of the page displayed the Strexcorp logo. By the time Kevin finished reading, his hands were trembling so much that he was afraid he might tear the people in half.  
  "I knew it," he whispers to himself, terrified of what this means. "I knew they were dangerous."  
 _The real question,_ he thought, _is how do I stop them. I can't let them become a threat to this town. I don't care what they say to me, I have to warn people.  
_   With that, Kevin set the paper aside and made his way towards the radio station. It was a bit of an early start, but he didn't care. A cold apprehension was coursing through his veins. He couldn't just let this go.  
 _Whoever they are, whatever they are, Strexcorp is dangerous._  
  However, as Kevin sat down at his desk, he found he couldn't start his broadcast. He was breathing heavily and shivering. His fear of this corporation was borderline irrational.  
 _It's not irrational,_ he told himself. _It's not! They literally sent me a threat!_  
  Kevin took a slow breath, struggling to calm himself. "They can threaten me as much as they want," he muttered, "I don't care. I can't let them get any more powerful here. I can't. maybe they're threatening other people too. That's not okay. Not here. It needs to stop."  
  Following his somewhat weak attempt at bolstering himself, Kevin's shaky hand turned on the microphone, and he took a slow breath to steady his voice before beginning to speak.  
  "Silence is made to be broken. Welcome to Desert Bluffs." 

 


	5. Motive

  "Good morning, Desert Bluffs. Forgive me for beginning with something so unusual, but I have something I must get off my mind. This morning, I received a letter from the company I told you about yesterday. The one called Strexcorp. This letter was not a good letter, listeners. In fact, I believe it was intended to be a threat. Now, I know many of you are familiar with the laws regarding duelling and feuds, but this was not that kind of threat. This was an attempt to silence me. But I am not so easily silenced. And so, before I get to today's news, I have a request for you, my dear listeners. Please, pay close attention to the movements of this... Strexcorp. If they do something you dislike, speak up. You will not be alone in standing against them, I swear to you. Anyone willing to send threats over something as simple as the dislike of a radio host must surely have ulterior motives."

  As the day draws on, Kevin's brief visions of goings-on around town bring a smile to his face, and also unease to his stomach. People in the streets are protesting against Strexcorp buying and overtaking certain businesses around town, and he feels proud of his people for trying so hard, but their action reveals that Strexcorp has already extended their reach far beyond what Kevin had been aware of. He sees more and more businesses claimed by orange triangle symbols, and with people standing outside, shouting.  
  _How,_ he wonders, _did they do so much so fast? And without me noticing?_

  Days become weeks, and Kevin begins seeing more of the same. More protests outside more buildings now owned by Strexcorp. Signs and chants, and angry people, fearful of the perceived threat to their town. Whoever runs this company, whoever works for it, are all outsiders. And if there is one kind of people that the residents of Desert Bluffs simply cannot stand, it's outsiders.  
  But there was a problem with the protests. The problem being that there were more of them every day. More businesses consumed by Strexcorp every day. The thought makes Kevin uncomfortable. As loud and as brave as the people of his beloved town are being, it is not enough.

  "Kevin." Lauren's voice is flat. "You need to tell people to stop protesting. It's clearly not working."  
  Kevin sighs. "I know it's not working, but that doesn't mean they can't try."  
  "You're endangering them, and us! Who do you think Strexcorp will come after next, hm? Us! Specifically, you!"  
  "They can't take the radio station. And if they try, I'll stand against them with the rest of Desert Bluffs."  
  "And if they win?"  
  "They won't win. Besides, how is encouraging people to protest 'endangering them'?" Kevin does air quotes with his fingers on the last two words.  
  "You haven't noticed? The owners of buildings that Strexcorp bought have stopped showing up to protests. Remember the ice cream shop that used to be owned by the Lazarus family?"  
  "Yeah. That was one of the first buildings Strexcorp bought."  
  "Exactly. They stopped going to the protests a few days ago, and when I went in there the other day, the family was working there again."  
  "That's wonderful!"  
  "No it's not! They were wearing shock collars, and their eyes were all dull!"  
  Kevin paled. "Shock collars? Are you sure...?"  
  "Yes, I'm sure! And other people have disappeared from the protests too! Something similar probably happened to them! Whatever this Strexcorp is, it's dangerous, and by encouraging people to fight it, you're putting them at risk!"  
  "Well then what do you think we should do? Let them take over with no resistance?"  
  "Yes! If we stop fighting, they'll stop fighting back! We can all move out of town while we still have the chance, and let them have what they want without anyone else getting hurt!"  
  "How do you know?"  
  "...what?"  
  "How do you know they'll let us go, Lauren? How do you know they'll stop hurting people if people stop resisting?"  
  Lauren was silent, but her eyes burned with rage.  
  "Besides," Kevin continued quietly, "I'm the voice of Desert Bluffs. I can't just leave. There's nowhere else I could go. Nowhere else would be home."  
  Lauren huffed. "Fine. Do what you want. But don't expect me to stick around when Strexcorp decides to take the radio station. I don't intend to end up like the rest of you will."  
  "Then get out."  
  "What?!" Lauren's voice became shrill and angry.  
  "I said get out. If you don't stand against Strexcorp, then you don't stand with Desert Bluffs Community Radio, and you certainly don't stand with me. Now get out of my radio station, Lauren."  
  "How dare you?! I-"  
  "GET OUT!" Kevin roared. He was not the type of person to yell, so when he did, it was quite jarring. Jarring enough for Lauren, as stubborn as she was, to drop her argument and slink towards the door of the radio station.  
  "You'll regret this, Kevin. I swear, you will regret this."  
  Kevin just glared at her, waiting, and then watching her leave. Only then did his anger fade. He sighed.  
  _Things just keep getting worse and worse... how are we supposed to stand up against an enemy that just keeps getting bigger? I guess it doesn't matter... what matters is that we are fighting. We'll keep fighting. They won't take the radio station. I won't let it happen._  
Even as he thought that, a feeling of dread crept down Kevin's back. What would happen if Strexcorp _did_ take the radio station? What would happen if they took over all of Desert Bluffs? What exactly were they planning?  
  _I really hope we drive them out before I get the answer to that question, because I really don't want to know..._


	6. Into the Fire

  His heartbeat pounds in his own ears. Despite the desert heat, he is shivering. Cold sweat runs down his back, like the drops of rain he hasn't felt in so very long. Before him stand four people. Two are quite muscular. Almost unnaturally so. Their presence is like that of a pair of guard dogs. Strong, intelligent, but awaiting command. The third person is a man in a suit. He watches the man in front of the door, like a cobra waiting to strike. The fourth person is a woman with a smile as false as the coloured plastic glued to her fingernails. All bear the symbol of a bright orange triangle on the left side of their shirts.  
  "Traitor!" He shouts at the woman.  
  "I warned you, Kevin. I told you that Strexcorp would target you next."  
  "You bitch! How could you?!"  
  "I have nothing to do with this. I'm just on the right side."  
  "Step away from the door." The man in the suit speaks up. His voice is cold, and his teeth appear almost unnaturally sharp. "I would hate for this to get messy."  
  "No! This radio station is the last building in Desert Bluffs that's free of your control, and I intend to keep it that way!"  
  "This is your only warning." The man in the suit says flatly. "Come quietly, and I can guarantee no more harm will come to you than is absolutely necessary."  
  "Give it up, Kevin," Lauren hisses. "You're outnumbered."  
  "Over my dead body!" Kevin spits.  
  The man in the suit just smiles. "Then so be it."  
  The man in the suit snaps his fingers, and the two guard-dog people surge forward wordlessly, and Kevin is only vaguely aware of what comes next. It comes as flashes of pain, accompanied by sounds. He can feel himself struggling. Trying to break free. A blow to the ribs. To the stomach. To the head. He continues to fight, to struggle, but Kevin is a fragile creature. One last hit to the head, and it all goes white.

  The next thing Kevin is aware of, is a blindingly bright light. It is as if the white noise of his unconsciousness has bled into his waking reality. As his eyes try to adjust to the light, and his brain comes back to the waking world, he slowly becomes aware of more and more details. He is lying on his back, on something cold. Metal, perhaps. He can feel all of his limbs, but it takes him a few minutes to realize he cannot move them. He feels straps biting against his skin, and realizes he's been tied down. Nausea begins to creep through his internal organs.  
  _This can't be good..._  
  A door opens nearby, and then closes. Kevin can hear footsteps. Slow, deliberate footsteps. They move, pause, then move again, until someone is standing over him. It's hard to see through the blinding light above him, but he can make out long, stringy blonde hair, and a surgical mask.  
  And then he sees the syringe. The syringe full of cloudy greyish liquid that looks like the most suspicious thing he has ever seen.  
  "What is that?" His voice comes as a croak.  
The masked stranger says nothing. Instead, she slowly inserts the needle into the side of his neck, and presses down.  
  Kevin screams as he feels liquid enter his bloodstream, and before long his entire body is buzzing with a dull, white-hot pain, like that of a day-old second degree burn that wasn't quite treated properly.  
  Slowly, very slowly, the realization creeps into Kevin's mind, like a lengthening shadow, that something is in fact very wrong. And it's not the fact that he's been tied to a table, nor is it the fact that the strange doctor is gone and the light has been turned off.  
  _I'm not alone here. She left, but I'm not alone. I'm not alone. No... not by a long shot..._  
  There's a faint scuffling noise beneath him, and Kevin's breath catches in his throat. He hears the clicking of insect legs. So, so many legs. He hears them scrape against the metal legs of the table.  
  Then he feels them pricking into his skin.  
  _Centipedes,_ he realizes. The creatures crawling over him, covering his body, stabbing at his skin, are an impossible amount of centipedes. Hundreds. Maybe thousands. He can't see them in the darkness, but he can hear them. He can feel them.  
  One, larger than the others, rises up out of the darkness. It's exoskeleton glows a faint gold, and illuminates the other creatures. It's eyes are cold, empty, and full of malice despite the way It's mouth curved into a grin filled with hundreds of sharp teeth.  
  Kevin's heart is racing. His entire body is quaking beneath the mass of creatures writhing over his skin. The glowing centipede, which seems to grow by the second, curls through the room, and moves closer to Kevin.  
  The centipede opens Its toothy maw, as if to swallow Kevin whole. But it doesn't. Instead, it speaks to him, in a voice that sounds like long, sharp ails being raked down a blackboard.  
  _Believe_ , It says, _in a Smiling God._  
  Every part of Kevin wants to scream in horror. He is screaming, though he doesn't realize it. The creature grins wider than before as blood begins to drip down the walls and from the ceiling. The smaller centipedes only claw at his skin more, leaving behind that same, burning pain.  
  He's struggling to breathe now, panting and squirming as he's consumed, not by the centipedes but rather by a fever. It's beginning to feel as if his skin is peeling off.  
  _Make it stop,_ he cries, though the words don't make it out of his mouth, which is still too busy making screams Kevin can no longer hear. _Make it stop!_  
  The grinning centipede hisses, thick black liquid now running from It's mouth. _Believe in a Smiling God._

  From behind a pane of one-way glass, the masked doctor watches her newest patient squirm on the table, beneath the bright light, screaming into an empty room.


	7. Slipping

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: I did not create the character Diego. I got permission from the character's creator ( @videntefernandez on tumblr) to use him in this story. I did make a few changes to the character, but that's simply my interpretation.

  Kevin wakes, as if from a dream, in what appears to be a bedroom. The room is warm, and well-lit, and the sheer difference between this room and the last one he remembers, the room with the centipedes, is enough to make him shudder. He slowly sits up, becoming aware of a dull throbbing in the back of his skull.  
  _Where am I?_  
  The details are fuzzy. Every memory, everything before the centipede room, feels distant and faded, as if they are not real memories anymore, and maybe never were. They are fragmented, empty, and distorted.  
  That thought disturbs him greatly. _If I can't trust my own memories, then...  what can I trust?_  
  A shiver runs down Kevin's spine as unwanted memories of the room with the centipedes cross his mind over and over. He sighs quietly, staring at the blank ceiling, only half daring to wonder what would come next. The more he tries to remember, the more the memories evade him, but one thing is very clear to him.  
  _This is not where I belong.  
  _Slowly, ignoring the dull pain in his head, Kevin sits up and looks around. The room he's in is empty, except for the bed he's lying on. It's small, and has no windows. There's one door, with no doorknob on it. Kevin assumes it opens from the outside.  
  "Where the hell am I?" He wonders out loud. "What happened?"  
  His last memory is of being at the radio station, hearing something outside. He does not remember what he saw outside, or what happened between that and the room with the centipedes. All he knows is he feels something is very, very wrong here.  
  Before he can linger too long on that thought, he hears a low beeping noise, and then the door of his room opens. The man outside steps into the doorway, and Kevin has to bite his tongue. The sight of the stranger sets off alarm bells in his head.  
  _I know him! How do I know him? I don't remember..._ Again, Kevin tried to grasp for his clouded memories, and again, they evade him frustratingly.  
  The stranger is wearing a black suit with a gold coloured tie. On the suit jacket, there is a familiar looking symbol. An orange-yellow triangle.  
  _Where have I seen that before?_ Kevin wonders. The memory evades him, until he catches sight of the same emblem, in the same spot, on the loose-fitting beige clothes he is currently wearing.  
  _These aren't my clothes._  
  The man in the suit smiles, but it's false and Kevin knows it. It's a cruel smile, and one that doesn't reach his eyes _._ Kevin can't help but think that if it weren't for the ice in those eyes, the man in the suit might have been somewhat attractive.  
  "Hello," the man says in a voice that reminds Kevin of the scales of a snake. Deceptively smooth, and hiding poison.  
  _Scales... Centipedes..._ He suppresses a shiver of fear.  
  Kevin takes a moment to find his voice. "Hello... who are you?"  
  "My name is Diego Kerr, but you will address me as 'sir'."  
  "Right... okay... um, where exactly am I? Why can't I remember anything?"  
  "You're at Strexcorp headquarters."  
  Kevin waited to see if Diego would answer his second question, and it rapidly became clear that he would not. So, Kevin asked again. "What happened to my memory?"  
  Diego seemed mildly annoyed by the question. "Re-education."  
  Kevin remembered what re-education was, a way of keeping the people of Desert Bluffs loyal to their government and secret police. He knew he had been re-educated many times before, but he couldn't shake the feeling that what he'd been given was not a normal re-education, nor did it have anything to do with the town he barely remembered. He figured he was better off not saying that out loud.  
  "You may not remember it, but you work for Strexcorp," Diego told him, though it sounded more like an order than an explanation. "You're our radio host."  
  _Radio host!_ Kevin couldn't help but smile at that. _Finally, something that feels right!_  
  Prodding at the back of his mind, there was a vague memory of having been a radio host before.  
  _When? Where?  
  _Unfortunately, Kevin's memories had become quite like quicksilver. If he was idle, they would remain where they had been left, but as soon as he actively tried to grasp them, they seemed to disappear. Still, he was comforted by the idea that he at least had a few fragments to hold on to.  
  "Do I have to stay in this room?" Kevin asked.  
  "Yes, when you're not in the radio station. However, if you behave and do what you're supposed to, you might be given the same privileges as everyone else here."  
  _What an odd way to put it,_ Kevin thought. _Whatever I did to deserve that re-education must have been pretty bad._  
  "That's fair," Kevin said, feeling as though this man was important, and that he should stay on his good side. He wasn't sure where this intuition came from, but he trusted it. "I'll do my best, sir."  
  Diego's expression became less cold, and more amused. "Excellent. I expect nothing less."  
  Kevin nods quietly.  
  "You can go back to working at the radio station tomorrow. In the meantime, it's necessary for you to see exactly who and what you're working for. Someone will be by shortly to take you for training. Do not resist."  
  Diego left without another word, without further explanation, and the door locked with an audible click. Kevin felt a chill go down his spine. Why had that sounded so ominous? Why did this place feel so wrong?  
  _Why do I get the feeling that I don't want to know?_  
  Something in the middle of his forehead burned.


	8. Training

  Shortly after Diego left, someone else came to see Kevin. If their uniform and strength was anything to judge by, they were a security guard of some kind. They grabbed Kevin roughly, and led him to another room.  
  "Sit down," they growled, gesturing to a chair.  
  Kevin approached the chair. It was metal, and faced a screen. There was a strange apparatus attached to the back of it, as well as what appeared to be restraints on the arm rests. Kevin shuddered. "Why is there-"  
  The guard shoved him on to the chair. "I said sit down!"  
  A quiet whimper escaped Kevin as his hands were shackled to the chair, which he now realized was bolted to the ground. The guard then lowered the apparatus over Kevin's head. "Eyes open."  
  Knowing he'd be forced if he didn't comply, Kevin kept his eyes open, even as the guard clipped the apparatus to his eyelids. Kevin rapidly realized that the purpose of the apparatus was to prevent him from closing his eyes. If he hadn't been scared before, he certainly was now. Shivers ran up and down his spine, and Kevin tensed up. He was afraid to move. The guard was no longer in his line of sight.  
  Suddenly, the guard gripped Kevin's jaw, and forced his mouth open. A cup touched Kevin's lips and a strange tasting liquid was poured into his mouth. Once his mouth was full, the guard held it shut until he'd swallowed. A few minutes passed normally, but there was a gradual shift, and time itself seemed to liquefy as the lights went dim. The screen in front of Kevin flickered to life as an intense calm feeling settled over him. Accompanied by the cold that was now spreading to the rest of his body, Kevin was experiencing both meanings of the word _chill_. He felt as if he were drifting in an icy ocean, and something may have been lurking beneath the surface to drag him down, but if there was then it certainly didn't matter. All that mattered was what was on the screen. All that mattered was the soft voice now speaking to him.  
  _"Look around you. Strex. Look inside you. Strex. Believe in a Smiling God. Strexcorp. It is everything."_  
  A slight smile crossed Kevin's face.  
  _Strexcorp,_ he thought. _Yes, that feels right. It is everything._

  After having his brain flooded with chemicals and four hours worth of Strexcorp propaganda, Kevin felt dazed, and oddly cheerful. He hummed and shivered as he was taken, still cold, back to the room from before and forced to sit down on the bed. He didn't really mind. He watched the guard leave, and smiled to himself.  
  "Mister Diego was right," he said to no one in particular, a slight giggle bubbling under his voice. "I do work here. Where else would I work? Strexcorp is everything, so what else would I do? What even is a Strexcorp anyway?"  
  Kevin began to laugh loudly. "What does it matter, Kevin? I wish I had a blanket. I need a fucking nap."  
  After a few minutes that felt like days, the door beeped open again, and the familiar figure of Diego entered the room.  
  "Hello, Kevin."  
  "Hi, Diego!"  
  Diego frowned. "I told you to call me sir."  
  "Sorry!" Kevin giggled. "Sir! Sir, sir, sssir!"  
  Diego rolled his eyes. "Clearly the drugs haven't worn off."  
  Kevin looked at Diego, barely hearing his words. In his current state of delirious happiness, Kevin couldn't see the burning ice in Diego's eyes that he'd seen earlier. He couldn't see what had made him feel afraid. Instead, he saw an attractive man in a fancy suit that was, for some incomprehensible reason, interested in having a conversation.   
  "You're really pretty."  
  Diego seemed unimpressed by Kevin's compliment. "Yeah, I get that a lot. How was training?"  
  Kevin assumed that when he'd said _training_ , Diego was referring to the room with the screen. "Was good! They showed me stuff. Things. Strexcorp!"  
  The slightest smile tugged at Diego's lips. Not a smile of happiness, but rather one of satisfaction, and maybe amusement. "Yes, that's right. You belong to Strexcorp."  
  Kevin nodded enthusiastically.   
  "And what is Strexcorp."  
  Kevin giggled for a few moments before answering. "It's... It's everything!"  
  "Good. Tell me, Kevin, do you believe in a Smiling God?"  
  "Oh, yes! Yes I do! The Smiling God is very good!"  
  "Perfect. You'll start on the radio tomorrow."  
  Kevin grinned. "Thank you! Thank you!"  
  Diego turned to leave, but Kevin spoke up again.  
  "Wait!"  
  "What?" Diego asked, now mildly annoyed.  
  "I have a bed, but no blanket, and I'm super duper cold!" Kevin chirped. "Can I please, please, pleeeease have a blanket?"  
  Diego smiled, more out of amusement this time. Now that Kevin was drugged and more under control, he was silly and childish, and nowhere near as much of a threat as he'd been when he'd held sway over the people of Desert Bluffs. Were he a weaker man, Diego might have described him as cute.  
  "Hm... sure. I think you've earned that. I was told you were very well-behaved today."  
  Under normal circumstances, Kevin would have been annoyed by being praised like a puppy. However, in his current state of mind, the praise brought a rush of happiness and excitement. Especially coming from Diego. Especially if it meant he would be getting a blanket. He was so very cold, and it was starting to bother him just a little.  
  Diego left, closing the door behind him and walking away as the automatic lock immediately clicked into place. He returned to Kevin a few minutes later with the softest blanket he could find. After all, reward and positive reinforcement worked great when combined with the kind of chemicals the used to train and re-educate Strex employees.  
  Kevin was visibly excited when he was given the blanket, and happily wrapped it around himself. "Oh, this is so wonderful! Thank you, Diego!"  
  Diego gave a slight nod, and then turned to leave. "You're welcome, Kevin."


	9. A Vision of White

  The walls are white. So horribly, horribly white, reflecting the light from above. The room is small, but not too small to pace, yet Kevin does not pace. He sits, curled in the corner, breathing heavily. His body shakes with need, which overcomes him like a rising tide.  
  Yes, the tide is rising, and Kevin is drowning.  
  His teeth feel unnatural in his mouth. Too sharp, and too smooth. His vision is blurred, and black around the edges. He pays no mind to it. The need is more important, and his shakes become spasms.  
  That's when Kevin realizes that he's restrained. His arms are crossed in front of his chest, and strapped to himself. Looking down, he discovers he's in a straitjacket. He leans against the padded wall, and feels the leather strap of the muzzle strapped over his mouth.  
  The need only gets stronger. He's screaming now, shaking violently and struggling against his restraints, desperate to feel something.  
  Anything.  
 _I need blood._  
  The vision of Desert Bluffs burning, and image from what feels like so very long ago, flashes through his mind.  
 _My fault. My fault. My fault._  
  A centipede, impossibly large, emerges from the acrid smoke, and coils around Kevin's once beautiful city. It smiles with hateful eyes, revealing row on row of sharp teeth.  
 _Strexcorp's fault._

  
  Kevin wakes with a start, gasping for breath. His hands tremble as the horrible nightmare fades only slightly.  
 _No,_ he thinks, _not just any nightmare._  
  His throat feels tight, and he realizes that tears are running down his face, not only from his normal eyes but also from his third eye. The vision has cleared his mind of Strexcorp's brainwashing, and clarity chokes him with the horrible realization.  
  _I failed Desert Bluffs... and this new vision... will that be my fate? I can't let it happen! Maybe there's still time to change things!_  
  His hands close around something that encircles his neck. He frowns as he realizes that he can't remember what it is. The more he thinks about it, the more he realizes that he can't remember _anything_ after being taken for training. He doesn't even know what day it is.  
  The growing number of gaps in his own memories make Kevin uneasy, and a slow-burning anger begins to take hold of him. How dare they do this to him?! To his town?!  
  A low growl rises in his throat as he forces his mind into submission, and drags the memories out against their will. The faint glow of his open third eye illuminated the dark room as the lost memories flashed across his mind. The fall of Desert Bluffs, and the nightmarish things he'd been through since. The centipede room, which still made him shiver, even in memory, and the horrible training procedure, and how hollow and happy he'd felt afterwards.  
  He remembered operating the radio station, so different from his own and yet, so heartachingly familiar... and he remembered that the device strapped to his neck happened to be a shock collar. He remembered how it burned like a lightning strike the first time he'd gone off script, though he seemed to recall that being accidental.  
  Feeling sick to his stomach, Kevin rose to his feet as his third eye closed again.  
  "No... they can't get away with this any longer," he said to himself. "I... I have to fight back."  
 The dark thought rose in the back of his mind that he shouldn't fight, that the situation was hopeless, but he shook it off.  
  "If I don't... who will?"

  
  That morning was the first time Kevin was really aware of his surroundings, without any effects of Strexcorp's drugs. His room was small, with cold grey walls and floors. His bed was bolted to the ground, and all he really had on it was a thin mattress and a soft blanket. Despite himself, he smiled at the memory of being given the blanket. Diego may have seemed sinister, but he was the only one in this place who had showed Kevin any kindness at all.  
  At the front of the room was a metal door, which was locked. It seemed it could only be opened or closed from the outside. Above it is the end of a stripe of lights in the ceiling that cross the room and fill it with a harsh white light.  
  Kevin sat down on the bed, silently planning. The shock collar would be problematic, but he resolved to suffer through it. If a dream could shake him out of whatever brainwashing he'd received, then maybe he could find a way to get everyone else out of it too.  
  Kevin keeps that dim spark of hope in his mind as his room is unlocked, and he's escorted to the radio station. For a moment, he wonders who controls the shock collar, as it seems to be operated remotely, but he soon decides that it doesn't matter. All that matters is trying to get through to whatever remains of the minds of his people. Desert Bluffs' people.  
 _Is there even a Desert Bluffs anymore?_ He wonders silently. In his heart he knows that somewhere, outside this massive complex, is his home. His town. A ghost town now.  
  He shakes his head at the thought. _There's still hope! I am The Voice of Desert Bluffs, and I will not be silenced!_  
  For the first time without the influence of Strexcorp's drugs, Kevin sees the radio station. It's uncomfortably empty. And yet, he has the feeling that he wouldn't like it any more if it had been decorated in some way.   
 _Focus, Kevin._  
  The radio station, if it can even be called that, because it's still a part of the same building Kevin's been in since being taken-  
  _How long has it been since I've gone outside at all?_  
  -has plain black walls, with a yellow stripe circling the center of the room. The carpet is flat and grey, and reminds Kevin of perhaps a steamrolled sheep. At the far side of the room is broadcasting equipment, a microphone, and a desk. Kevin feels uncomfortable as he sits down.  
 _This isn't my desk. This isn't my microphone. This isn't home._  
  But the equipment still works the same, and Kevin knows how to run it better than he knows anything else in the world. He smiles at a familiar static hum as he puts on the headphones. He picks up the microphone, and he begins to speak, completely ignoring the script set in front of him.  
  "The future is what you make of it. Let's make something worthwhile. Welcome to Desert Bluffs."  
  The shock is immediate.


	10. Futility

  "Today's broadcast is a very special one, friends. Today, I have an important message for you."  
He tenses at the new flare of pain from the collar around his neck, but he doesn't stop.  
  "You see, listeners, today is the day I remind you of who we are, and of what's really important. Today, I speak to you again as The Voice of Desert Bluffs, not Strexcorp's puppet. I do not remember what I've said to you before now, but I ask you kindly to disregard it. It's no longer important."  
  The next shock is stronger, and the pain of it makes Kevin gasp involuntarily. Still, he fights through the burning ring around his neck, which is beginning to spread down his back now.  
  "If I can remember what we were, then you can too. We do not belong to Strexcorp. We do not belong here. We can fight this, Desert Bluffs. I know we can. There has to be a way out of this."  
  The shock is constant now, instead of short bursts. Kevin is shaking, but he doesn't give in, despite feeling like fire is racing down his spine. He doesn't stop. _Refuses_ to stop. His voice now comes as a scream of pain, but he's still able to force it into words.  
  "We do not belong to Strexcorp, Desert Bluffs!" he screeches in agony, hoping his pain is not for nothing. "We must fight! Break your chains! We must not be silenced!"  
Someone storms into the room, and Kevin has a moment to realize just how much shit he's in before everything goes black.

  Diego paces, his anger clear in his cold expression. "How has he recovered so quickly? This is impossible! This has never happened before!"  
  "I believe elements of magic may have been involved," the masked doctor says calmly. "Other methods may be necessary. He has the third eye. That could be tampering with the effects."  
  "Well, find a way to stop it! I want him under control. That little rebel will pay for this."  
  "We've handled rebels before, sir. Why don't we just execute him?"  
  He rolled his eyes. "Why I want him alive is no business of yours."  
  He couldn't admit that he was curious about the rebellious radio host. He wanted to break him, to watch him crumble, more than he had ever wanted anything. Desire was not a thing Diego was a stranger to, however what was strange was how he'd felt after seeing Kevin after his first re-education. The way Kevin had looked at him like a lost puppy seeking attention... it was unusual for him to be so personally involved in re-educating someone, but he couldn't deny that the problematic Voice did have a certain allure to him. If only he could be controlled, Diego could have someone he could perfectly bend to his will. He could have those puppy eyes all the time. He wanted that. He wanted Kevin, but not as he was now. He wanted only the most perfect version of him. The version that aligned with his ideals and hung on his every word, and begged for even the simplest things. The thought made him smile.  
  "I want him under control, doctor. Do whatever is necessary to achieve that, but I want him alive. Oh... and he needs to be adequately punished for this little show of him. I think he could use a little of The Smiling God's grace, don't you?"  
  The doctor, knowing exactly what this meant, could practically smell the blood already. She was thankful her mask hid her wicked grin. "Yes, sir. I will do that, and I will fix his little problem with things wearing off. One way or another, we will get him under control."  
  "Thank you, doctor. Your efforts are appreciated."  
  Kevin dreamed that he was drowning. Sinking deeper and deeper into an endless dark. What little breath he had escaped as little bubbles, which he could barely see in the murky depths that surrounded him. He attempted to move, but was barely able to, due to the pressure surrounding him on all sides. His eyes, open in spite of the fact that he was completely submerged, burned horribly, but he could not close them. He was not sure why. All he knew was that he was sinking, or perhaps simply floating slowly downwards. He continued trying to move, but his movements were so very slow, and Kevin was beginning to feel so very cold.  
  Slowly, exhaustion began to set in. Kevin began to feel tired.  
  _Sleep,_ a soft voice in his head whispered. _Sleep. Let this end. Sleep, and you will be warm again. Sleep, and the water will go away. Your suffering will end if you just give in. Just close your eyes and let it happen. Wouldn't that be so much easier, Kevin? Stop fighting. Stop struggling. Take a nice, deep breath, let go, and sleep._  
  Kevin knew that if he stopped fighting to stay awake, he would certainly drown, but exhaustion was both literally and figuratively dragging him down. Down and down, endlessly. As much as he wants to live, he can see no way out. His chest is beginning to burn with his own held breath.  
  He makes a decision, and breathes out, and then... in.  
  Cold floods his entire body. His last remaining traces of warmth fade, as if a fire inside himself has been snuffed out. In an instant, Kevin is overwhelmed with an all-consuming horror; the knowledge that he is going to die. He wants to struggle now, but it's too late. He has drowned. As he sinks deeper and deeper into the darkness, as his consciousness begins to fade, the voice returns.  
  _Believe..._  
  ...it whispers...  
 _…in a Smiling God._  
  Jaws rise from the depths, and before long, Kevin is surrounded by teeth. All at once, and much too late, Kevin realizes he's not sinking, and not floating. No, he is being swallowed. He is being consumed.  
  He is being _devoured._


End file.
